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having a quiet life is so.. underrated. i don’t mean it in the sense that people who’re open and loud and busy aren’t important, but when our culture has significantly put so much emphasis on the definition of success as fame, extraordinary accomplishments, greatness and importance and excessive wealth, i think there is so much power to be found in our own anonymity. in the silence of life. in not being constantly perceived, analyzed and performing for the world. in being able to take a walk, smile at strangers and just notice the world without all that noise. taking the biggest pleasure out of the smallest joys, like a cup of coffee or blowing out birthday candles. knowing that our lives don’t have to be a grand spectacle for others in order to have worth and cause a good impact.

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ALEXA DEMIE for Love2 U - JMSN

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the past few weeks have been roaring over with so many memorable tastes, smells, sounds, and other magical moments that i want to keep them in my palm and bring them so close to the safety of my heart. 

sucking the bbq sauce from island takeout from our fingers. the unforgettably soft and succulent crunch of lobster meat. sweet lips swollen with drink and mirth. the press of a cold glass of water against your mouth, the slight clink if it taps against your teeth. the salty taste of skin after a long and challenging hike. veggie peanut tofu noodles, made with loving hands and plants from her garden. loni’s empress gin lemonades.

the aroma of his cologne, yes, but even more so, the tantalizing aroma of his skin after a day in the wilderness. the comforting papery scent of grandma and grandpa’s beloved board games. the unforgiving smell of long drives (old fast food wrappers, the burn of rubber tires, and still wet bathing suits hanging from the roof to dry). the delicious heat coming from fresh chocolate pancakes and bacon in the diner. the cleanest oxygen i’ve ever breathed atop a majestic mountain in acadia, drinking in the salty sea air. 

the gentle slap of his hands against the steering wheel as the speakers purr out his favorite song. our laughter as we tumble around in bed together, the Wii music a nostalgic and hilarious backdrop for our hoots of laughter. the startling crash and boom of thunder directly above our heads, the soft sighs as we roll back over to sleep. the wonderful audiobook of harry potter & the chamber of secrets. hearing sophie’s kind voice through my drunken haze, coaching us on how to play her favorite game. 

the rock scramble down the bubble loop and the ladders up to beech cliff ladder trail. ditching the long line for lobsters to buy the best food from a tiny restaurant behind a convenience store instead. soaking in the hot tub, a beer and a lychee vodka pooling condensation on the bench beside us. ordering our very own feast in boston, clinking oysters on the half shell like tiny champagne flutes. getting up early to see the sunrise but being met with clouds and mist instead. being fucked on the counter while everyone slept around us. playing chameleon with my family. your paddleboard sinking so we took turns paddling each other back to the shore. slithering up the creek with sophie like little river snakes. taking turns sleeping in the passenger seat. giggling in the yurt and sharing secrets in hushed voices so we don’t wake the others. playing the guessing game until we’re red in the faces with laughter. 

i love you and all our little moments. 

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Sandra Bullock as Sally Owens in PRACTICAL MAGIC (1998)

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graphic by bum-lung on twitter

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Theo van Rysselberghe

Bathers

(via @lonequixote)

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i am twenty-three and its october 10th, 2021 (very early in the AM, mind you). the anniversary of my dad’s passing was just a few days ago and it still hasn’t gotten any colder than september was but the streets of my city have already begun to be decorated with halloween so i can taste the autumn rustling in richmond’s marrow. 

today i worked a double and afterwards came home to feed my cat, play drunken card games with my lover, and eat a homemade cheese quesadilla with avocado crema. fireworks just lit up outside my window, for a reason i can’t guess, but it sure is a pretty sight. tomorrow we shall traipse through the folk fair and a pumpkin patch with another couple and most definitely roast some seeds in the oven when we get home. my united flight app is stocked full of future adventures that seem unreal; after a year of little to no travel, here i go, visiting so many places i’ve never been before. my fridge is full and my closet is full and my life is so, so full. maybe a little too full... or maybe that’s just how it’s always been. how i’ve always been. 

miss sentimentality. queen of nostalgia. 

i am growing (and have been growing) in a way that reminds me of that very awkward pre-pubescent stage: everything feels uncomfortable and even your own skin and bones feel stretched and achey and unyielding because it’s almost too much all at once. but it is a good growth, one that promises a stableness that i think i’ve been looking for forever. and nothing is forever, and nothing is 100% except dying and being pregnant. but the patience and love i want to cradle myself with is something i want to last as fucking long as possible.

this year is such a small sandwich between what life was and what life will be; for that very specific reason i am *trying* my damndest to treasure it as a unique and everlasting spring. but summer always comes, and my metaphorical summer feels like that gasp of air when the drop tower at kings dominion releases you back into gravity’s lap. do you know what i mean? that gasp of air that barely brings any real oxygen back into your lungs but in the moment it’s all you can really do; just breathe. but my spring feels so tantalizing it is hard to imagine time spinning onward past this season.

yeah, i guess that’s it. i haven’t written on here in so long because time hadn’t felt suspended in a meaningful way like it has the past few days/weeks. or maybe i’m finally feeling that urge again, after what could possibly be described as my longest lasting writer’s block to date. 

i missed writing here.

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dr. t im writing this because we don’t have therapy for another few days and i’m feeling so overwhelmed and scared and sad and angry and anxious and alone. i don’t want to be here, i don’t want to be me, i don’t want to be leading the life i’m leading right now. i’m having the worst semester i’ve ever had.

my best friend is in the hospital and last semester was hard enough without her here and now we can’t even speak. i worry about her all the time and it feels like she’s disappeared from my life...

my classes and my internship are all so hard and i feel like i don’t have the capacity for them any more, if i ever did. i feel like so many people around me are struggling with classes too because we never get any breaks and it all feels so much harder and more difficult. i feel like i’m balancing so many things that i can’t do any of them as well as i should be able to

accutane is waging a war on my emotions and i just had a breakdown in the bathroom sobbing and gasping for air

i feel alienated from nearly everyone on campus and in my life in general and i really hope its just accutane/covid lifestyle because its exhausting feeling so alone and hating it while simultaneously pushing people away because they hurt me and i can’t handle it

and not to mention, the second i got back from ohio i was pretty much quarantined right away bc of a close contact so i can’t even be with the people i love or even get a hug when i’m sobbing my eyes out

i feel like i need to be on 24/7 watch but oh, that’s right, no one can even be near me (-: 

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last night i was in such a dark place -- there’s not much i want to say about it, but i was deep down in the chambers of the saddest part of my heart and i couldn’t break free

but then elise, ellie, and i took a long, snowy walk around the lake in the dark and i drank in all the magic in the world and lovely friends around me. and this morning, i am spending my time talking about becoming untamed with other women who want to do the same. i want to shake off all these worries that are accumulating on my shoulders and become the truest, most joyous, most beautiful version of myself possible.

i guess i’m writing all this to say that i am so overwhelmingly touched by the power of women. they --we-- are magic.

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Glasgow Cathedral, Scotland (by Euan Fraser)

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Condolenses artwork

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Yehuda Amichai, from The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai; “Jerusalem 1967,”

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me after being diagnosed w sleepy bitch disease

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A Pensive Moment, 1896, Eugene de Blaas

Medium: oil,panel